


Monsieur Chevrolet

by JJ1564



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, First Time Topping, Historical, M/M, Men of Letters, Paris Uprising 1832, Possessed Sam, Sad Dean, Sastiel Big Bang 2016, Season/Series 11, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 04:00:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8829655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJ1564/pseuds/JJ1564
Summary: Sam tries on an old coat from a trunk in one of the Bunker’s mysterious rooms and is transported to nineteenth century Paris, during the Student’s Revolt. He needs to save a brother and get back to his own – with Castiel’s help.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my wonderful beta, septembers coda, for all her help and support with this fic, my first ever Sastiel! Thanks to my artist, please visit LJ to see her work, here...

Dean

Dean stared in horror at the empty space where Sam had just been sitting. 

"Sam? Sammy? Oh fuck, fucking hell...Sammy..." he yelled in despair.

He fell to his knees, unable to move or make a sound. “Sam's gone, and it's my fault…” ran in a loop in his head. They’d been happy, goofing around. They'd taken some time out from hunting – they needed a chance to recover after their run in with the Nachzehrer and his ‘family’. Sure, Cas had healed their wounds, but they were both exhausted and reeling from the knowledge that even the monsters feared The Darkness. 

Of course, they had grown restless after a day or so, and decided to explore more of the Bunker’s chambers and artifacts. The large trunk they found looked fairly innocuous. No warding sigils, nothing to suggest anything dangerous lurked in there. 

It was full of musty old clothes, looking like something from a pirate movie. Sam was wearing a Tricorn hat and Dean had picked up a rusty old musket, admiring it and calling it a classic. They’d been like a couple of kids with a dressing-up box. Sam slipped on an old jacket, which strangely fitted him perfectly - suddenly he started to scream. A small whirlwind appeared from nowhere, wrapping itself around Sam; Dean tried to reach him, but the wind was too fierce. As it cleared, Sam's screams stopped and he was gone.

Castiel arrived minutes later, somehow sensing that the Winchesters were in deep shit, again. 

“He’s gone, Cas, he’s gone!” Dean tried to calm down.

“What happened?” Cas asked, his usual frown deepening in concern. Dean explained how his brother had literally been there one moment and gone the next.

“I will find him, Dean,” Cas vowed, as he scanned the room. The trunk gave him the clues he needed - it had belonged to Jean Chevrolet, a Frenchman who had lived in Paris in the early nineteenth century. 

“Shit, Cas, you don’t really think Sam’s been transported - somehow - to freakin’ Paris?” Dean queried.

“That is exactly what I think,” Cas nodded, “I will go there to find him.”

“Take me with you, please, Cas,” Dean begged.

“I am sorry, Dean,” Cas sighed. “I fear I only have enough strength for myself – and it may take a few days for me to regain enough strength to bring Sam back, to bring him home.”

“Okay, just bring him home.” Dean nodded, adding, “And take care, Cas.”

Cas gathered Dean into his arms; it was a stiff, awkward hug, but Dean appreciated it. Then Cas was gone, too. 

Dean had lost the only two people he truly loved in the space of a few minutes. He stared at the empty room and prayed that Cas would find Sam and they would both be home soon. He staggered through to the kitchen and grabbed a full bottle of whisky that he’d stashed at the back of a cupboard. Then he found an axe and smashed the trunk to pieces, and ripped the remaining clothes to shreds, before falling to the floor and drinking himself into a restless sleep.

 

Cas

Cas landed heavily on the bank of a river. He glanced around and knew where he was – it was the river Seine – but he had no idea when he was. He just hoped it was the same time as Sam. There was no traffic or streetlights, but the moon illuminated the imposing bulk of Notre Dame. He stood up, frowning at the mud that covered his trousers and shoes. It felt weird wearing eighteenth century clothing, but Dean had been right about the need to ‘blend in’ if he was going to find Sam.

Concentrating, he could hear music in the distance - the haunting strains of a violin - and the sound of people talking. He followed the sound until he came to a bar and scanned the crowd for Sam. Of course, he knew it wouldn’t be that easy, but he had to try.

He sat at a table at the edge of the main crowd and ordered a bottle of wine when a waitress approached him. It didn’t take long for a local man to pull up a chair. Cas wanted to smile - the man looked so very French with his swarthy complexion, his moustache and his twinkling eyes - as he could imagine Sam saying the man only needed to be wearing a beret to be a caricature. 

“It is sad to drink alone, my friend!” the man smiled at him.

“Then join me,” Cas replied, pouring a glass for his companion. 

“You are a gentleman, sir.” The man sat down opposite Cas. “Let me introduce myself, I am Marcelle DuPont, but you can call me Marc.”

“I am pleased to meet you, Marc. I am Castiel Novak,” 

“Novak…Russian?” Marc asked, frowning.

“No, Bohemian,” Cas replied, “but I was born in France,”

“Yes, your accent is too good for you to be a visitor.” Marc conceded.

“Marc, who is your new friend?” A younger man with an earnest expression asked.

“This is Castiel, the Bohemian,” Marc replied, winking at him, “Castiel this is…Claude,”

Cas wondered why Marc had hesitated over his friend’s name, obviously giving him an alias. This ‘Claude’ had long fair lashes, blue eyes, and long hair tied back with a ribbon. He was a beautiful man, and Cas felt the familiar ache inside for his own beautiful, long-haired young man. His feelings for Sam had grown since they had teamed up to save Dean from his demon form. Although Cas wasn’t sure if Sam reciprocated his feelings, he was sure that Dean would not be happy about any advances he made on Sam.

Claude pulled up a chair to sit with them. Cas ordered another bottle of wine and more glasses, having the feeling his interrogation was not yet over. Soon they were joined by three other men, all of them given aliases by Marc. Bread and cheese appeared, ordered by one of the newcomers and they ate and drank while they questioned Cas about his childhood and his family. Cas was grateful to Metatron for all the books he had downloaded into his mind, because he used the childhood home of d’Artagnan as his background. 

Then he told them he had come to Paris to find his cousin, Jean Chevrolet, and it was obvious by the way his new friends flinched slightly at the name that they knew who he was. They denied it of course, so Cas ordered more wine, having learned that trick from Dean – the saying loose lips sink ships sprang to mind.

Eventually most of their little group staggered off, leaving Cas with Marc, who eyed him suspiciously. “You have been drinking with us all…hic… night, yet you are clear-eyed and elokent-elekwen-eloquent; what is your…hic…secret?” 

“Ah, I worked for a few years at a vineyard and grew too accustomed to wine,” Cas pushed out his stomach and patted it. 

“Y’can never grow too accustomed, m’friend,” Marc chuckled and rubbed his own, much larger stomach.

“Marc, may I ask you a question?” Cas asked, hoping Marc was drunk enough to be honest.

“Of course, of course, of course,” Marc nodded.

“Do you know Monsieur Jean Chevrolet?” 

Marc peered at him through bleary eyes, “Lemme aske you first…d’you know Javert?”

Cas did know the name Javert from the novel Les Miserables but he kept his poker face straight. It wasn’t really a lie; he didn’t actually know the man. “No, I do not.”

Marc leaned into Cas, smelling of sweat, wine, cheese, and garlic. He looked him right in the eye and nodded. “You’re a good man…hic…Castiel the Bohemian.”

“So, please, tell me if you know my cousin, Jean?” Cas pleaded.

“I do not…” Marc whispered and Cas’s hopes floundered. “but I know his brother…Henri.”

“That’s wonderful news. Please can you tell me…”

“Not here, come upstairs,” Marc stood up and promptly sat back down again as his unsteady legs gave way. Cas helped him up and together they made their way through the bar and up the stairs.

“Marcelle, what on earth are you doing?” It was Claude’s voice greeting them at the top of the stairs. “You cannot bring this stranger up here.” 

“He’s a good man, a good Bohemian, he jus’ wants t’see his cousin,” Marc slurred, “poor Henri…”

Cas suddenly realized that his plan was flawed – if he met Henri he would not know him as his cousin. His cover would be blown. Claude already looked on the verge of challenging him to a duel. 

All thought fled from his mind as he looked past the stern-faced Claude into the room behind him and saw Dean laying on a couch, a bandage around his stomach, pale and sweating with a fever.

“Dean!” Cas gasped, but a closer look revealed the man wasn’t his friend. His hair was longer and hung loosely around his face. He was much younger too, probably no more than twenty-five.

“What happened to him?” Cas asked.

“He was stabbed in the stomach during a bar fight, protecting the virtue of one of the local whores,” a grim-faced man Cas hadn’t met yet replied. 

“Grantaire, be silent!” Claude barked out. 

“What difference does it make who knows, Enjolras?” Grantaire retorted, “Henri should never have become involved with that whore – now, he is a dead man; we all know it,”

“May I see? I have some healing skills,” Cas offered.

“Very well,” Claude – or more correctly, Enjolras - nodded. He was so concerned about his friend he had forgotten to protect his name.

Cas kneeled beside Henri and placed his hand on his head. He was burning up, and his eyelids fluttered open revealing emerald eyes, just like Dean’s. He looked confused for a moment, then grimaced in pain. Cas knew he was too weak to heal the boy, but he could try to relieve his suffering.

“Bring me fresh cold water and…” Cas thought of what they might have that he could use as a basic antiseptic before adding “…honey, and fresh bandages.”

Cas removed the dressing and the smell of rotting flesh hit him. It was not a deep wound, nor had it punctured any vital organs, but Cas knew the infection could kill. He would need to excise the wound to prevent more decay. He used the last of his powers to make Henri sleep and set about removing the dead tissue, then packed the wound with honey before wrapping it up again. Cas needed to rest, then he could heal Henri much better than the honey.

“Well, I have done all I can.” Cas sighed wearily, “I shall stay here and watch over him.” 

“You must rest, my friend!” Marc declared, “You may as well have Grantaire’s bed, he won’t be using it.”

Grantaire sat up straighter, his eyes never leaving Henri’s face, and Cas realized the grim-faced man was in love with Henri. Cas also knew that Grantaire would not leave his side.

Cas glanced at Enjolras, who was obviously the leader of this little band. He nodded once and Marc grinned, grabbing Cas by the arm to lead him further into the maze of rooms. They stopped in a doorway to a room containing four small beds. 

“There you are, by the window,” Marc stumbled forward, collapsing onto his own bed; Cas was surprised the small frame took his weight. Marc was snoring almost as soon as he hit the mattress. Cas removed his new friend’s boots and wrinkled his nose at the nasty odor of his feet, deciding to leave the socks on. 

Cas knew he needed to rest if he was going to find Sam and get him home, so he lay on the bed and pretended to sleep. Henri’s resemblance to Dean was disturbing and could not be a mere coincidence. He wanted to help the boy, not just because of his likeness to Dean, but because he hated to see anyone suffering. He thought of Sam, with his floppy hair and dimples. Cas admired his ability to still be innocent and naïve despite all he has seen and done, his simple faith and hopefulness. Cas wanted to ease his burden of guilt and despair that Sam carried - he also wanted to see Sam’s kaleidoscopic eyes light up, and to see his wide smile again. 

Sam hadn’t smiled enough lately, although after their last hunt both brothers seemed happier, more relaxed and in tune with each other again. 

Thinking of Sam made his face blush and his penis stiffen. Then he thought of Dean, which made his stomach churn and his penis wilt. He feared that Dean would hate him and never accept that he loved Sam. Cas knew that if by some miracle Sam felt the same way, Dean would never accept them as a couple. Dean was his closest friend, but he had never forgiven Cas for breaking the wall in Sam’s mind or trusted him completely since then. Cas had tried to make up for all he had done – taking on Sam’s pain, sacrificing himself so Dean could escape from Purgatory, never giving up on Dean once he had become a demon. Dean had started to trust Cas again, but…

One of his bunk mates was mumbling in his sleep and making what Dean would call very happy noises. Cas sighed, wishing that he could sleep. 

 

Sam

Sam screamed in pain as the world spun and threw him on a muddy river bank. He lay sprawled on the mud for a moment, catching his breath, then rose unsteadily to his feet. He had no idea where he was at first, but was drawn towards what he recognized as Notre Dame by a voice inside his head. This was a seriously weird dream; at least, he hoped it was a dream. If not, he knew that Dean would be freaking out back in the Bunker, wondering what on earth had happened to him. 

Sam approached the Cathedral cautiously, but the surrounding area was empty. Once he was inside, he sat at the back with his head bowed, as he didn’t want anyone to speak to him. Not that there were many people about – Sam had no way of knowing the time but guessed it was late night or early morning; but if this was Paris in the early 1800’s, his French was limited and modern, and would not be very useful, or convincing.

“I am sorry, monsieur,” a voice said, “I have been waiting so long for someone to help me. I have to save my brother, I have to know he survived,”

“Who are you? Why did my wearing your coat bring me here?” Sam asked.

“I will explain as well as I can,” the voice answered, “in the inside pocket of my coat, you will find a letter. There is also a portrait of me with Henri, my younger brother. I am Jean Chevrolet.”

Sam pulled out a thin wad of ancient paper. The writing was in French but Jean helpfully read it out to him; it asked for whoever wore the coat to look for Henri, to save him. The portraits made Sam gasp – they were so like him and Dean, but Dean had long fair hair tied behind his head, such familiar green eyes and a cheeky smirk. And this Sam’s hair was longer too, but his face was solemn. 

“Henri was so wild, so carefree, so full of life and love,” Jean sighed.

“This isn’t a dream, is it?” Sam rubbed his face with his hands. “I think…I think you’re our ancestors; I look just like you.”

“Yes, that is why you were the one to finally answer my plea. Sam, we are connected.” 

“Where is Henri? Is he in danger?”

“He has joined the students rising against corruption and greed. I am afraid they have no hope of succeeding; I fear the people will not join them and they will be massacred.”

“I’m afraid you’re right, too.” Sam replied, remembering the story of Student Revolt from reading the book Les Miserables at Stanford. He had taken a classic literature course and was told that Hugo was the French Dickens, but although he had enjoyed the story, he preferred Dickens. He smiled to himself at the idea of another trunk in the Bunker containing clothing that would transport him to Victorian London. 

“I knew it; I knew he was in trouble.” Jean’s voice was shaky. “I tried to get to him. I climbed the barricade and one of the students shot me, not realizing who I was; I died before I could save him.”

Sam knew how desperate the need to save a brother was. “I’m sorry. What can I do? How can we make it work this time?” 

“You have no reason to trust me nor help me, Sam, but if you would let me take control, use your body, you look enough like me to…”

“No!” Sam protested out loud, earning him a glare from an old lady in a nearby pew.

Sam got up and walked outside, the fresh air helping to alleviate the nausea he was feeling. He paced up and down outside the cathedral, having no clue what to do or where to go.

“I am sorry, Sam,” Jean said gently, “I know this is much to take in, and that you do not trust me,”

“It’s not you, it’s not your fault,” Sam replied, “It’s strange, but I do trust you, I feel like I know you. I just can’t let anyone – anything – control me,” 

“I am sorry,” Jean repeated, “but it will be easier - unless you can speak French?”

“I can. A little, and we’re speaking now, aren’t we?”

“Yes. I do not understand how, as I have ever learned English,”

“Can you tell me what to say, how to pronounce things?”

“Let us try,” Jean suggested. ”Repeat after me…”

Sam tried, he really did, but it sounded painful and discordant to his own ears and he knew Jean was flinching inside his head. If they had more time, he could try. 

“I have a brother, too,” Sam informed Jean, to change the subject away from his appalling French as well as to try to make his uninvited guest understand. “He’s older than me, his name’s Dean, and he’s going to be freaking out right now.”

“Freaking out?”

“Worried, anxious, stressed.” Sam explained. “My point is that you need to save your brother, and I need to get back to mine, so…”

“You will let me take charge?” Jean asked hopefully.

“Yes, but I need to be aware, need to know what’s happening, all the time.”

“That is acceptable, although it will be strange for you.”

“Not my first rodeo,” Sam muttered, adding, “I mean, it’s not the first time. I’ve been possessed before by a demon and by an angel.”

“I will not possess you Sam, merely share your body for a short time.” Jean paused. “I am delighted that you and your brother are hommes de lettres, and to know that our work and our lineage carry on. What year are you from? I have no idea how long I waited.”

“Um, 2015, so almost two hundred years, Jean. I’m sorry,” Sam frowned, wondering how Jean had stayed sane in all that time and how he had worked the possession…holy crap, Jean had just told him – he was a homme de lettres. 

“Two hundred years…” Jean whispered in awe, adding, “I would love to know all that man has achieved in that time, but I must find Henri…and get you back home to Dean.”

“I can fill you in as we look for him,” Sam offered, “I just need to try to let Dean know I’m alright.”

“How will you do that?” Jean enquired.

“I know an angel,” Sam smiled, as they made their way back to the cathedral.

 

Cas

Cas heard Sam’s voice so clearly that he sat up, rubbing his eyes to try to see his tall figure in the room. 

“Cas, it’s me, um, Sam,” Sam was saying and Cas realized it was a prayer, “I don’t know if you can hear me from where I am, which seems to be Paris around 1830 – okay,1832, thanks Jean…” he laughed nervously, “but can you just let Dean know I’m alive, I’m fine. I’m helping this guy, he’s trying to save his brother, I guess we can all relate to that…” as he listened to Sam’s prayer Cas was already on his way out of the bar and running down the quiet Parisian street towards Notre Dame.

Cas felt giddy from relief and running too fast on lowered powers. He wanted to transport himself right to where Sam was and just take him home. The cathedral loomed silent and foreboding as he crossed the square. The front entrance was locked, but he soon found an open side door.

The sight of Sam’s familiar shaggy haired head bent in prayer made Cas’s knees go weak. He vowed whatever happened he was going to tell Sam how he felt once they made it home. He couldn’t face feeling like this and not knowing how Sam felt.

Sam looked around as Cas approached the pew – hunter’s instincts – and his face showed surprise, then relief and pleasure. He stood up and pulled Cas into a too-brief bear hug, whispering, “How did you get here? How did you find me? Is Dean okay?”

“He’s fine,” Cas smiled up at Sam, not seeing a reason to whisper as there were only a few other worshippers at this hour. “I came for you; are you alright?”

“Yes, as I said, I need to help Jean – the guy who’s coat I’m wearing – find his brother and save him from being killed at the barricade.”

“Henri,” Cas nodded, noticing a look of pain briefly flicker across Sam’s face. “Sam, are you hurt?”

“S’nothing,” Sam grimaced, “Jean’s kinda giving me a headache. He says…he says have you seen Henri?”

“Yes, I am afraid it’s bad news…” Cas hesitated and Sam’s face showed Jean’s shock and fear. “No, he is not dead, just seriously injured.”

“Where is he? Please take us to him,” Sam pleaded. It was getting hard for Cas to tell where Sam ended and Jean began.

“He is with his friends, in accommodation above a bar in Rue St Germain, come with me,”

“Cas, are you alright?” Sam asked as they hurriedly left the cathedral. “You look exhausted.”

“Yes, I am tired. Getting here, healing Henri as much as I could, has drained my batteries,” Cas gave a rueful smile. “I’m going to need a few days to recover.”

“Well, Paris is a beautiful city,” Sam shrugged.

“The city of love,” Cas added and in the growing daylight he could see a faint blush on Sam’s face. “Although at present it is a city of turmoil and unrest.”

“Yes, I feel like I’m in the middle of a film set! How can this be happening, Cas?”

“I believe that you are linked to Jean and Henri, as they are your ancestors. Perhaps Jean’s spirit lay dormant until you put on his coat?” Cas suggested.

Sam groaned in pain, shaking his head slightly, “Okay!” he huffed, “Jean says he wasn’t haunting his clothing, it was a spell, it was meant to work much more swiftly, like in the same freaking time-period…” Sam stopped walking and Cas turned to look at him. Sam was frowning, then his face broke into a smile, “Jean’s just reminded me that he’s a Man of Letters.”

“That would explain it,” Cas agreed, “And it appears Jean was the bookworm and Henri the action hero, much like you and Dean. Although you are also an action hero.”

“Me, a hero?” Sam shrugged. “More like a walking disaster.”

“I disagree,” Cas reached out and before he thought about what he was doing, he reached out and stroked his face. “You are a hero, Sam Winchester; you are special.”

Sam’s blush was more obvious now, but he didn’t move his face from Cas’s touch. “Thanks, Cas.”

“You’re welcome,” Cas reluctantly dropped his hand and they resumed walking.

“What happened to Henri?” Sam asked.  
“He was stabbed in a bar fight, protecting a woman,” Cas glanced at Sam. “I told you he is like Dean.”

“Figures,” Sam chuckled. “But he’s your younger brother… sorry Cas, talking to Jean…kinda helps to say it out loud, otherwise my brain feels like it’s going to explode,”

“Do not worry about me,” Cas replied.

“Okay, okay, I understand,” Sam muttered, adding “Jean is going to take over when we get there, Cas.”

“No!” Cas was shocked by the anger he felt; Sam looked equally shocked. “No one is possessing you, ever again. Not after all you have been through, Sam. I…”

“Cas, please don’t worry,” Sam reassured him, “I’ve told Jean all about my reservations, he understands and we’ve reached an agreement.”

“How can you trust him? He may say he was a Man of Letters, but that does not make him trustworthy. Have you forgotten Cuthbert Sinclair?”

“Of course not, but I can feel Jean, Cas, and he feels… safe.” Sam sighed, taking Cas’s right hand in his own. “Thank you for being worried about me, but I got this.”

“Sam…” Cas began to say, but it was too late. Sam’s expression changed infinitesimally; he looked older, more careworn if that was possible.

“Hello, Castiel.” Jean released Sam’s grip from Cas’s hand.

“Jean,” Cas nodded. “I understand your desire to see Henri; let us go.” There was more he wanted to say. He wanted to warn him not to harm Sam, but now was not the time. And he had no idea if he could carry out any threat he made. 

 

Sam

Sam was more aware of being possessed by Jean than he had been by Meg or Lucifer or Gadreel. It was weird, like a walking dream. He watched as Jean bounded up the stairs and burst into the room. “Henri! Where is Henri Chevrolet?”

“Who are you?” Enjolras demanded, up on his feet and approaching him.

“This is Jean, Henri’s brother,” Cas stood between them, which made Sam’s heart give a little flutter at how protective Cas was – and how pleased he was Cas was here with him. 

“Ah, forgive me, Monsieur Chevrolet, we cannot be too careful. Javert has spies all over the city,” Enjolras responded.

“I do not care about your ridiculous campaign; take me to my brother,” Jean snapped, and Sam warned him to be civil, as all the guys were armed and on edge, which made them dangerous. Jean sighed “I apologize, Monsieur, for my lack of manners, but I fear for my brother’s life,”

“Understandable,” Enjolras nodded. “He is in the back room,”

Sam watched as Jean opened the door to a sparse room. A small window let in a little daylight, but it was dismal in there. Jean approached the prone figure laying on the bed and dropped to his knees. 

Both Sam and Jean gasped in shock when they saw Henri; Jean was distraught by his brother’s pale face and feverish skin, and the bloody bandage around his waist. Sam was shocked because it was Dean laying there, much younger and with long hair; Sam briefly wished he could take a photo to tease Dean when – if – he got back home. 

“Henri,” Jean was sobbing, holding Henri’s limp hand, “I am here, cher, here to save you,”

“Castiel has already done that,” the man sitting unnoticed by the bed spoke, “Henri was on the brink of death; his wound had festered. Castiel saved him.”

“Is this true?” Jean looked up at Cas in wonder. “How can I ever thank you?”

“There is only one way, and when I leave I will be taking him with me,” Cas retorted.

“Of course,” Jean’s gaze fell back on his brother and Sam could feel his shame alongside his pain. He apologized to Sam once again and Sam reassured him once again. Jean bent lower to ask, “Henri, can you hear me?”

Henri’s eyelids fluttered and he moaned in pain. The man wrung out a rag in a bowl of water and laid it on Henri’s forehead. Sam told Jean to ask Cas to help Henri.

“Castiel, please, can you do anything to ease his pain?” Jean pleaded.

Cas nodded and touched his fingertips to the site of the wound. There was still some infection there; he would need to cleanse it, but right now he used a little of his remaining power to give the boy with Dean’s face some respite from pain. Henri gave a heavy sigh and his tormented body relaxed, mirrored by Jean who also sighed and relaxed a little.

“Can you fetch me some clean water, more bandages, and some honey?” Cas asked.

“Yes, but how did you…what did you…” Jean stuttered.

“My mother was a healer; she passed some of her skill to me,” Cas explained.

“Your mother taught you well; you are a marvel, my friend.” 

Cas was concerned to see how inflamed the wound still was when he removed the bandages. He longed for his full powers, or at least some antibiotics to heal the boy. 

“He needs proper medical care. A hospital, somewhere clean at least,” Jean murmured, and Cas agreed. 

“But where can we take him?” Sam asked his new friend.

“My family has a small apartment my father uses when he visits Paris; we will take him there.” Jean paused. “I know he should not be moved, Sam; I have no choice. This place is in danger of being raided by Javert at any moment, I cannot leave him here!”

“Sam disagrees with us moving Henri?” Cas asked.

“Yes, but you do not?”

“No, we have to get him to safety, away from here.”

 

Cas

They used a handcart owned by the bar to move Henri. It was lined with empty sacks and a few blankets, but it was still hard and uncomfortable. Henri winced and whimpered with every jolt until Cas could not stand seeing his pain, or the pain on Jean’s face. He left Jean and Marc to haul the cart and walked alongside, holding Henri’s hand and keeping his pain to a minimum. 

Once at the apartment, Cas threw all the windows open to air the musty rooms. It was small, but no smaller than any of the motel rooms Sam and Dean stayed in. There was a kitchen area with a table and chairs, a lounge with a large couch and two chairs, leading to a bedroom with a large double bed.

They laid Henri gently onto the bed and Marc bade them farewell. Jean turned to Cas and Cas knew Sam was back.

“Fuck, Cas, he looks just like Dean,” Sam said, looking exhausted and a little shaky.

“Sam, sit down before you fall down.” Cas caught his arm and guided him onto a chair beside the bed, knowing that Jean would want to stay next to his brother. “I believe experiencing both Jean’s emotions and your own is making you ill.”

“M’okay, Cas,” Sam slurred, but within seconds, he was sleeping. 

Cas sat on the floor beside Sam, resting his head against Sam’s knee, hoping that he could save both Henri and Sam. If the worse happened and he could not return them to 2015, he knew he and Sam could make a life here, but Dean needed them both. They had to return. 

 

Sam

Sam woke up with a splitting headache, feeling disoriented, achy, and thirsty. It took him a minute to remember where he was, and why he was there. As he sat up, he could see Cas sitting on the edge of the bed, holding Henri’s hand, no doubt aiding his sleep and healing.

Sam felt a surge of affection for Cas. He was so caring and selfless, using his grace to heal although he was still weak. His head was bowed and anyone else would think he was sleeping, but Sam knew Cas never slept. It gave him a rare opportunity to just look at the angel, to take in the mop of unruly black hair, the way his shoulders were slumped in exhaustion, and the way the old period clothes suited him so well.

“You care for him, very much,” Jean said. It wasn’t a question.

“Yes, very much,” Sam agreed.

“Does he know?” Jean queried.

“Know what?” Sam tried to play cool. 

“That you love him.”

“I don’t…” Sam was going to protest, but as the guy was inside his head, lying to him seemed pointless. “I don’t think so.”

“You should know he feels the same…” Jean started to say, just as Cas stretched his body and looked over at Sam.

“Sam, how are you feeling?” Cas peered at him through the half-light in the room.

“Fine, thanks, Cas,” Sam confirmed, smiling. “I have a headache, and my spine feels like a pretzel, but nothing worse.”

“That’s good.” Cas looked down at Henri. “I am afraid I have spent too long healing Henri; I should have conserved my energy, but every time he groaned or whimpered in pain, I had to…”

“It’s alright, Cas, I understand.” Sam reassured him, as Jean whispered inside his head “…he feels the same.”

“I should concentrate on getting stronger, getting you home.” Cas stood up and made his way to the small kitchen area. “I am not sure if we have much in the way of provisions.”

“Cas, stop worrying, I’ll go out and get some food,” Sam rose, stretching his achy body out with a groan. He joined Cas, standing just a few feet from him. “Thank you for coming to rescue me.”

“You are welcome,” Cas smiled. “But I could not lose you, Sam. You have become very important to me.” 

“I thought Dean was the one you had the profound bond with?” Sam teased, forgetting for the moment that teasing Cas was as pointless as arguing with a fish.

“It is true I have a profound bond with Dean; I saved him from perdition and I am his protector.” Cas moved slightly closer to Sam. “And I did not like nor trust you when we first met. But over the years I have grown to like you…to love you…as a brother.”

“I already have a brother, Cas,” Sam drew closer to Cas, as Jean gave encouragement.

“Yes, I know, I just meant that I feel close to you. I should have said good friend.” Cas amended, radiating disappointment and confusion.

“I don’t need a brother, Cas, or a good friend,” Sam closed the gap between them and reached out for Cas’s hands, enveloping them in his own. “I need you.” He leaned forward to gently kiss Cas’s lips, “I need this.” He kissed him again and was relieved that Cas didn’t pull away - or punch him. Cas was completely still for a moment, then his body inched towards Sam and his lips responded eagerly to Sam’s own. Sam had wondered what it would be like to kiss Cas, and it was so much better than he had anticipated. There was an instant connection that Sam never wanted to lose. 

“I told you he felt the same,” Jean helpfully provided.

“Jean, can you go to sleep or something?” Sam pleaded silently. “I need some privacy.”

“Of course, of course!” Jean chuckled. Sam imagined the grin on the face that looked so much like his own. He sighed with relief when he sensed that Jean had ‘gone’ temporarily.

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, concerned.

“I was just getting rid of Jean,” Sam smiled, “he was the third wheel.”

“And that is not a good thing, as I recall,” Cas returned the smile.

“Was that a joke?” Sam laughed, feeling a bubble of happiness rise inside him. 

“I think so, although I still do not understand them fully.” Cas frowned, adorably.

“You’re priceless Cas, do you know that?”

“If you say so,” Cas frowned again, “but why would anyone wish to buy me?”

Sam laughed so loud he was afraid he would wake Henri. His eyes moved across to the bed, and Cas understood. “He will not wake for many hours.”

“Good,” Sam wiped his eyes and took a deep steadying breath. “I haven’t laughed like that since…I don’t remember. You make me happy, Cas,”

“Thank you, Sam, you make me happy too.” Cas reached up to cup Sam’s chin in his hand. “I felt very happy when you kissed me. It was much better than Meg, she was very fierce. And April was too soft. You are just right.”

“Okay, Goldilocks, let’s get back to it,” Sam kissed Cas before he could ask about the Goldilocks reference. 

They kissed for a long time, both marveling at the feeling of their mouths meeting, exploring, tasting each other, their bodies moving together, their hands roaming over each other. A loud rumble from Sam’s empty stomach broke the spell and they parted, both smiling.

“Sorry about that, Cas,” Sam rubbed his stomach.

“You should eat,” Cas replied. “It is a long time since you did, and may be why you had a headache.” 

Sam left Cas to watch over Henri, and went out to find the local market, asking Jean to help him with his French. Luckily there was still some cash in Jean’s coat pockets.

“Ah, you are English, but you are doing very well,” an old lady told him as he placed his order for some fruit and vegetables. She kindly provided a large basket for his goods. Loaded with milk, eggs, bread, wine, cooked meats, and the fresh produce, Sam made his way back to the apartment. He had no idea how long they would be stuck in Paris, and right now he didn’t care. The growing attraction between him and Cas had now been acknowledged; he could happily stay here forever with Cas, away from al the hunting crap and The Darkness…but not away from Dean.

The thought of his brother all alone in the Bunker, worried and despairing over the fate of Sam and Cas, burst his brief happy bubble. And the thought of how Dean would react to him and Cas being together made his mood worsen.

“Sam, what is wrong?” Cas asked as soon as he saw him. The apartment was brighter now; Cas had opened the window shutters, letting in fresh air in along with the daylight. Henri slept peacefully, all signs of his fever had gone, thanks to Cas. 

“I’m worried about Dean,” Sam confessed as he placed all the shopping on the kitchen table. “He’s got to be completely freaking out right now. It doesn’t help that Henri is so much like him.”

“Dean will be fine,” Cas insisted. “He knows I have come to get you, and I will return you safely.”

“You’re such a bad liar.” Sam sighed. “You know Dean will be worrying about both of us, and blaming himself for everything.”

“True, but I promised to bring you home and he trusts me…” Cas paused. “Well, I believe he trusts me again after all I did to make him doubt me.”

“He does trust you, Cas, and so do I,” Sam tore a chunk of bread from the loaf and stuffed it into his mouth. He resisted the urge to start kissing Cas again, instead instructing Cas to help him chop up some vegetables to make some soup for when Henri awoke. Sam ate bread, cheese and olives while the soup cooked. Once he’d eaten, he asked Cas to check on Henri.

 

Cas

The boy with Dean’s face was doing very well. Cas was pleased that his fever had abated and the wound was starting to heal. He was also selfishly pleased that the boy would not wake for a few more hours. He had been so surprised when Sam kissed him; it was like Sam had read his mind and knew exactly what he wanted - and it had been the best thing that ever happened to him. 

Yes, he had felt a strange attraction to the demon, Meg, and he had liked April - until she revealed her true identity. But Sam was different, because he loved Sam already; he had done so for some time. He wanted to love him more, to know him more, to make him smile and to make him happy. He wanted to make them both whole. 

Sam was leaning against the door frame, his arms folded, his eyes on Henri. “How’s he doing?”

“Very well,” Cas placed his hand on Henri’s brow, “his fever has almost gone.”

“It’s going to be weird when he wakes up. I’ll have to let Jean take charge.” Sam said, but Cas knew he really meant that they didn’t have much time.

“I know, and we may not have much time,” Cas turned to smile at Sam, “so I would like to carry on where we left off. I very much liked kissing you, Sam.”

“Good, because I can’t think of anything else I’d rather do while we wait,” Sam replied, crossing the room to take Cas in his arms, kissing him briefly. “But not here. We’ll have to make do with the couch, for now.”

Sam seemed a little disappointed, and Cas guessed he wanted their first time to be special. 

“Look out of the window, Sam,” Cas walked over to gaze out at the Paris skyline. Sam joined him, sighing happily. “The city of love. We are here.”

“I’d rather it was our time, but I guess I’ll have to make the best of it,” Sam grinned.

“When we return, we will go to Paris,” Cas promised. “I have always wanted to go to the top of the Eiffel Tower,”

“Really?” Sam raised an eyebrow, “Can’t you just fly up there?”

“That would hardly be the same. I would like to admire the archi…” Cas saw the smile on Sam’s face, the twinkle in his eye and smiled back. “You are teasing me.”

“I’m sorry, Cas, sometimes it’s too easy,”

“You do not have to apologize, Sam. I love to see you smile; it does not happen enough.”

“There hasn’t been much to smile about,” Sam stared into Cas’s eyes and Cas was mesmerized. The sunlight made Sam’s already multi-colored eyes take on more hues and they shone with a light that left Cas breathless. “Until now,” Sam added, bending to kiss Cas again.

They made it through to the lounge area, where their kissing intensified, and Cas could feel Sam’s hardening cock against his stomach. His own cock was hard and their bodies began to grind against the other, until Sam broke the kiss, falling to his knees. He unbuttoned Cas’s trousers, quickly releasing his cock and stroking it gently, almost reverently.

Cas couldn’t move or speak. He knew what Sam intended to do, and suddenly it seemed too much. Sam was going to give him a gift he did not deserve.

“Stop thinking,” Sam instructed, then licked his fingers to stroke Cas.

Cas groaned, grasping Sam’s long hair and thrusting into his hand. Sam gave his cock a tentative lick, which made Cas wonder if Sam had done this before. Any doubts were removed as Sam continued to lick his cock, lavishing attention on it with long swipes of his tongue, alternating with small licks and kisses. Cas needed more; he held Sam’s head by the hair and pleaded for more.

The sound of pounding on the front door didn’t register for a moment. Then they froze, staring at each other before Sam hastily rose to his feet and Cas tucked himself away, buttoning up his trousers with trembling hands.

“Shit, Cas, what if it’s Javert, or his men?” Sam whispered.

“Castiel, my Bohemian friend, let me in!” Marc’s voice called out.

They both breathed a sigh of relief mixed with frustration. Cas headed to the door and found not only Marc there but Enjolras and Grantaire, too. Cas knew Sam would have to let Jean take charge for now, and he found that he already missed Sam. 

They asked after Henri and spoke to Jean as Cas poured them all some wine. They sat around the small table and before long, they had eaten the rest of the bread and cheese Sam had bought and drunk most of the wine. Jean excused himself to sit with Henri, and after an hour or so, Jean gasped with delight. “I think he awakens!” 

“What…where…” Henri rasped as his eyes slowly blinked open.

Jean was overjoyed to see his brother awake. He knelt next to Henri’s head and kissed his forehead. Grantaire brought over a glass of water for Henri and Jean took it, helping Henri to drink.

“Jeanny, what happened?” Henri asked, frowning at Sam. “Why d’you look so sad? Your hair…you cut it. S’too short.”   
Cas had hoped Henri would not notice the subtle differences between Sam and Jean. He felt a jolt of pain when Henri called Jean ‘Jeanny’ - not only did he look like Dean, he spoke like him, too. 

“I am fine, cher, and you will be, too.” Jean smiled at him. “You were stabbed…”

“Isobel!” Henri cried, trying to sit up and wincing with pain.

“Do not move, Henri, you are badly wounded,” Jean advised.

Henri was pale and sweating now, but he was still attempting to sit up. “Izzy, she was being assaulted, I had to help. Is she alright? Is she hurt?”

“Rest yourself, cher,” Jean looked to Grantaire for an answer. He had not thought to ask if the woman Henri had almost died for was even alive. 

“Isobel is safe, Henri, and the man who stabbed you has been dealt with,” Grantaire explained, and Cas knew by his dark expression that he had killed the man.

“I need to see her, need to…” Henri was having trouble breathing now, and Cas stepped forward.

“You must rest, Monsieur Chevrolet,” Cas took Henri’s limp hand in his. 

“Who are you?” Henri asked, already leaning back on his pillows with Jean’s help.

“This is Castiel. He saved your life, cher,” Jean replied, “Your wound became infected and you had a high fever,”

“Thank you, Monsieur Castiel,” Henri mumbled, his eyes already closing as sleep claimed him.

 

Sam

“Did Castiel do that?” Jean asked Sam, intrigued.

“Yes, he’s helped him sleep; he needs to rest,” Sam confirmed, feeling proud of Cas.

“Castiel, thank you,” Jean said aloud, clapping Cas on the back.

“He should rest and then eat when he awakes.” Cas replied. “Can we bring Isobel to him? I feel this would ease his mind.”

“She is a whore.” Jean spat out the word like it was a curse. “She will not set foot in here.”

“She may be a whore, but Henri loves her,” Grantaire retorted, “and if he needs to see her, then we should accept it.”  
Jean stormed out of the bedroom and headed outside. He slumped against the wall.

“You think me too harsh,” he said and Sam agreed. “Sam, there is something you have to understand. I am not attracted to women. I married, but I could not consummate the marriage. My poor wife is childless and lonely. I am almost glad that I die here, and let her have a chance of happiness.”

“What does this have to do with Henri?”

“It is up to Henri to keep the Chevrolet name going, to have children. And he will need a decent woman to marry, not a cheap whore,”

“You can’t tell your brother who to love, Jean. Have you even met Isobel?”

“Of course not!” Jean paced up and down the pavement. 

“You should at least meet her; it would please Henri,” Sam suggested.

“Sam, I know you are trying to help, but you do not understand. We are not a rich or important family, but we have standards. My parents are elderly and would never accept such a…a person with Henri.”

Sam sighed, knowing he was fighting a losing battle. “Okay, the main thing here is for Henri to recover. Then you can rest and I can go home,” 

“Yes, to your brother, and to your important work.” Jean sighed.

Sam felt like sighing too, he was beginning to enjoy this adventure.

Unfortunately, Marc and his friends hung around the apartment for most of the day. Henri woke up and ate some bread and soup before falling asleep again. By the time the others left, Sam and Cas were both exhausted, and too worried that Henri might wake up at any moment to do more than kiss for a few minutes on the couch. Cas resumed his post next to Henri, this time in the chair, letting Sam stretch out as much as he could on the couch.

The next morning brought heavy rain, but Henri was looking much better and sat up more easily to eat his breakfast. Sam and Cas sat at the table to eat theirs, when Marc knocked on the door, letting himself in with Grantaire, both carrying soggy provisions to replace those they had eaten the day before. 

“Henri, my young friend, it is good to see you much restored,” Marc grinned at Henri.

“I am feeling much better, thanks to Castiel.” Henri smiled across to Cas. “Where is Enjolras?”

Marc and Grantaire swapped glances, then Grantaire explained that he was trying to encourage more students to join their cause. If he was caught he would be arrested. 

“Do we know when?” Henri asked.

“A day or so. The mood on the streets is ugly, a powder keg waiting to explode,” Marc shrugged.

“I must join you, my brothers.” Henri tried to move his legs from the bed and winced in pain, collapsing back and sweating.

“Henri, you are crazy, you cannot mean this!” Jean scolded him.

“I came to Paris to make a difference, Jean, and I will not let the people be downtrodden and oppressed any longer.” Henri pushed himself upright, sounding stronger than he looked. “And I will not desert my brothers.”

“I did not come all this way to save you from the barricade, only for you to risk your life there!” Jean shouted. “You are a selfish, ungrateful boy; you have no idea what I have been through for you.”

“I did not ask you to come here,” Henri replied, his voice eerily calm. “You only came to save me because you need me. You need me to be the perfect son and heir.”

“I do, but I need more than that, Henri,” Jean sighed. “You are my brother and I love you. I want you to live to grow old with a wife and lots of children. I want you to know love and to be happy.”

“I know love, Jean,” Henri ran his hand through his hair, a Dean-like gesture that made Sam miss him terribly. “I adore Izzy, and she loves me. We will make a new life when this is all over.”

“There will not be a new life for you, Henri, for any of you.” Jean leaned forward, pleading for Henri to listen. “This little revolution, this pathetic rebellion, it will not succeed. If you do not die on the barricade you will be arrested and sent to the Bastille. You know that is a fate worse than death.”

“You are just trying to stop me from doing what I believe is right.” Henri scowled at Jean. “I will stand with my brothers. Enjolras says the people will join us. We will not need to fight because we will outnumber the soldiers,”

“Enjolras is wrong, cher.” Jean rubbed his eyes. “The people will not join you.”

“How can you be so sure?” Henri asked, looking both angry and worried.

“You have to trust me, nothing good will come from you being here.” Jean pleaded.

“I must stay, I will stay.” Henri declared. He was almost as stubborn as Dean.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door; Grantaire and Marc carefully moved to answer it.

“Let her in,” they heard Grantaire say. “Let her through.”

“Jean said she wasn’t to come in,” Marc argued back.

“I need to see Henri, please monsieur, it is very important,” a woman’s voice pleaded.

“Isobel!” Henri called out, trying to rise from the bed again.

Cas had been standing quietly listening to Jean and Sam talking to Henri; now he moved quickly, saying, “Henri, please, take care,” and pushing him back gently onto the bed.

Grantaire appeared with a beautiful young woman. She had dark brown hair, almost black, which fell around her pale face in waves. She had full red lips, big brown eyes and a lovely smile when she saw Henri.

“Henri, you are well.” She rushed over to him, and he stood to take her hands in his.

“I am now you are here,” he replied, gazing at her so intently that Sam felt he was intruding on an intimate moment.

“You needed to see Henri?” Cas said, smiling at Sam.

“Yes, I need to speak to you privately,” Isobel informed Henri.

“Let me speak, Sam, I cannot allow this!” Jean growled, but Sam refused.

Sam and Cas left the bedroom, and Cas was still smiling broadly.

“What’s up, Cas?” Sam whispered.

“I believe that Isobel is the answer to Jean’s problem.” Cas winked, “She will save Henri from the barricade.”

“How?” Sam asked as Jean demanded the same.

“Just wait a moment…” Cas tilted his head, listening.

“I am to be a father?” Henri cried out. “I am to be a father! Izzy is with child!”

Sam and Jean both instantly agreed that Cas was right - this would be the reason Henri deserted his friends and their barricade. Sam imagined high-fiving Jean at the news, although he knew Jean did not approve of Isobel. 

Cas was the first to cross the room and gently pat him on the back as he congratulated him. Sam was pleasantly surprised at how human Cas had become in his interactions with people, how willing he was to share physical contact without the awkwardness that he had once had. Marc and Grantaire also congratulated the young couple.

“I suppose you intend to marry this girl now?” Jean said sternly. 

“Her name is Isobel,” Henri retorted.

“Isobel,” Jean nodded, “Very well, but just let me ask you one question,”

Sam knew what Jean was going to ask and tried to warn him to stop. “How can you be sure the child she carries is yours? She has no doubt lain with many men.”

“This is where you are wrong about her, brother.” Henri kept his voice low, “She had lain with men, but since we have been together she has changed. She cleans and sews; she cooks and serves the food. The landlord has been angry with her, and it was one of his thugs that tried to assault her.”

“And you believe that she has stayed under his roof and not carried on with her…profession?”

“I do, because the landlord’s wife has taken her under her wing. She is afraid of her husband, but has done her best to keep Isobel safe.” Henri explained. 

“Monsieur,” Isobel spoke to Jean, “everything Henri said is true. I am not proud of my past. I had little choice but to join the brothel when my parents died, leaving me destitute. But I love your brother and will be true to him. I will be a good wife and a good mother.”

“I see,” Jean replied. “Let me think on this.”

“You should congratulate them; it’s not every day a man becomes a father,” Sam whispered.

“I am not sure congratulations are appropriate at this point,” Jean said aloud, “but as I said, I will think on this.”

 

Later that night, Jean had retreated to ruminate over Henri’s situation, and Henri had fallen asleep, still weak from his wound and infection. Isobel slept next to him, on top of the covers and fully dressed as a concession to Jean.

“At last,” Sam sighed, pushing Cas against the wall. “I’ve wanted to do this all day.” He leaned down to kiss Cas, as Cas tilted his head up to kiss him back. They kissed for a while, their bodies grinding together. Sam couldn’t wait much longer to move things along, so he dropped to his knees and released Cas’s cock, pleased to see it already hard and leaking pre-come. 

Sam didn’t waste much time on teasing Cas to fullness this time, he ran his hands over Cas’s cock, then licked at the head before starting to take it inside his mouth, loving the gasps and moans from Cas, and the way his hands were already tangled in Sam’s hair.

“Sam, it feels so good,” Cas moaned, his hips moving unconsciously.

Sam was secretly pleased with his performance, as he had given only two blowjobs in his life - both times he had been drunk - but of course he had experience in receiving them, and used it now.

Sam took Cas further inside his mouth, sucking his cock as hard as he could until he needed air, then continuing until he could take no more. Cas was moaning, saying Sam’s name over and over. Sam ran his free hand over Cas’s balls, and Cas came, Sam swallowing him down.

Cas’s knees gave way as he shuddered above Sam, giving a cry. Sam caught him easily, lowering Cas to kneel opposite him. To Sam’s surprise, Cas was weeping – Sam couldn’t recall seeing Cas cry before. Sam held him, rocking him gently in his arms and telling him it was alright, it was okay. 

“I don’t deserve you, Sam, not after the things I have done - I broke the wall…” Cas sobbed.

“Cas, I know all you have done, the good and the bad. I’ve made my share of bad calls, too. None of that matters now, it’s all in the past,” Sam pushed Cas gently away from him to look in to those wonderful blue eyes, now red-rimmed but still beautiful. “I love you, Castiel, I want you, I want this, us, together…” it wasn’t as eloquent as Sam had hoped his declaration of love to be, but it was from the heart and Cas smiled through his tears.

“I love you too, Sam Winchester. I have for many months,” Cas declared, “but I never expected you to feel the same. I never dreamed you would. This is…you are the best thing that has happened to me. And I have lived a very long time.”

“The best thing ever, eh?” Sam grinned. “That could make me big-headed, y’know. I might start ordering you around…”  
“Order me to kiss you,” Cas smiled back.

“Kiss me,” Sam breathed, and Cas did. 

 

Things moved quickly the next day. Jean agreed to give Henri’s marriage his blessing, on the condition that they left Paris immediately for their family home. He wrote his parents a long letter explaining Henri’s injury and his impending fatherhood. He asked his parents to give the young couple their blessing, and to forgive him for failing to provide them with any grandchildren. He asked them to look after his wife if anything happened to him, and told them he loved them. He was saying goodbye, and it broke Sam’s heart a little. 

Henri also said his goodbyes to Marc, Enjolras, and Grantaire, who all wished him and Isobel luck for their future. He thanked Cas for saving his life, and hugged Jean as tightly as he could, thanking him for all he had done to save him.  
Jean sighed as he watched his brother depart, and murmured, “So now I die, again.”

“Not yet, Jean,” Cas replied, “I am afraid I am too weak to transport Sam and myself back to our time. You may be stuck with us a day or so more.”

“It will be my pleasure, but I will leave you two alone to make the most of an empty apartment,” Jean teased. 

As soon as they had the apartment to themselves, they changed the bedding before falling side by side onto the bed, both stunned by all that had happened. 

Sam rolled over to look down at Cas. “Alone at last,” he smiled. 

“If Marc knocks on the door this time, I may have to smite him,” Cas vowed.

“I’ll cut his fucking hands off,” Sam growled, and they both laughed.

It was wonderful to take their time, to kiss and touch each other, exploring their bodies and finding the places they each liked to be touched. Sam ran his hand down Cas’s back and lightly over his hole. 

“Wait, Sam, please,” Cas had his worried frown back when Sam sat back to look at him.

“What’s wrong? Is this your first time?” Sam asked gently. “With a man, I mean.”

“Yes,” Cas replied. “What about you?”

“Me too – I’ve fooled around with guys, but never...” Sam shrugged.

“How do we decide who goes where?” Cas was so typically serious about it that it made Sam laugh. “Have I said something amusing?”

“No, sorry Cas, just don’t overthink it.” Sam managed to stop laughing, not wanting to upset Cas. “What do you want me to do?”

“I would very much like to feel you inside me, Sam,” Cas whispered, almost shyly.

“That’s perfect, because I would very much like to be inside you, Cas,” Sam replied solemnly, then broke into a grin as he pounced on Cas and knocked him onto the bed. 

“We seem to have reached an acceptable solution.” Cas smiled up at him.

Sam wanted to prep Cas properly, and the lack of lube worried him until he remembered the olive oil he had bought from the market. Sam left Cas to undress while he got the oil from the kitchen; he returned to the sight of Cas lying naked on the bed. 

Sam stopped in his tracks. He had never seen Cas naked before – he had very rarely seen him out of his trenchcoat – and took in the long, slender limbs and muscular chest. It was hard to recall that this body had once belonged to Jimmy Novak. It was Cas now, all of it, from the dark hair and pink lips to the tips of his toes and the large cock already arching up again proudly. 

“Fuck, Cas, you’re beautiful,” Sam moved across the room and climbed onto the bed, ready to kiss Cas. He was disappointed when Cas pushed him away.

“Sam, I think you should be naked, too,” Cas said earnestly, “I would very much like to undress you,”

“Yeah, sure,” Sam sat back so that Cas could unbutton his shirt and remove his t-shirt. Cas stared at Sam’s chest for a moment, then lightly touched his nipples with his fingertips.

Sam moaned at the touch, egging Cas on to explore more. He squeezed them gently, then ran his fingertips over them again, making Sam arch his back and plead for more.

Cas frowned, a little confused, so Sam asked him to use his mouth. Cas grinned – making Sam wonder what he had done with April – and started to lick and suck one nipple while stroking the other.

Sam was getting so hard that he feared he would come before he was inside Cas. 

“Cas, please, stop, please,” Sam panted.

Cas pulled away, his lips shiny, looking worried. 

“S’okay, love what you’re doing, s’too much…need...I need to be inside you,” Sam reassured as best he could.

“I understand,” Cas smiled, relieved. He quickly unbuttoned Sam’s jeans and leaned back against the pillows, ready.

“Um, lift your knees up to your chest,” Sam suggested, wondering if all fours would be better for the first time, but needing to see Cas’s expression.

Cas obliged, his eyes never leaving Sam’s face. They were so full of trust and love that Sam wanted to cry, tears of joy and adoration. Sam blinked away his tears as he used the oil to coat his fingers, working Cas open with one, then adding another.

Cas’s eyes filled with a mixture of wonder, pain, and pleasure as Sam added a third finger and brushed Cas’s prostate.   
“Sam!” Cas groaned, his hands clutching at the bedding.

Sam wanted to take his time, but his need to come made him hasty. He removed his hand to slick up his cock and pushed it inside Cas. Cas’s big blue eyes scrunched up at the initial intrusion and his mouth opened as he panted through the pain. Sam thrust in and out, slowly at first until Cas’s hole relaxed enough to let him increase his pace. As he did so, Cas’s eyes flew open in shock, his hands released his grip on the bedding to grab hold of Sam’s hips, and he began to move in time with Sam. 

Sam was so close, but he stilled a moment to take Cas’s hard cock in his hand and pump it, loving how Cas’s body responded to his touch. Sam set up his thrusts again, his hand pumping Cas’s cock, and Cas thrusting too, all in rhythm. It didn’t last long, however, as Sam came, buried deep inside Cas and crying out his name. Cas followed, come splattering his stomach and chest. 

Sam pulled out of Cas gently, before collapsing half on top of Cas and half onto the bed next to him.

Cas’s arms wrapped around him, and they lay like that, both sated and a little bit awestruck. 

“Sam, that was better than I ever imagined,” Cas murmured, as if he was afraid to speak loudly and break the spell.   
“It was pretty amazing, Cas,” Sam replied, “and we can make it even better, next time.”

“Next time,” Cas sighed happily. “That sounds wonderful,”

Sam fell asleep, wrapped in his angel’s gentle arms, feeling safe, loved, and happy. 

They made it better the next morning, twice, and Cas was strong enough to take them back that evening. Sam said a sad goodbye to Jean, who thanked them both for saving Henri. Cas and Sam thanked him for bringing them together,.and were pleasantly surprised when he told Sam to love and cherish his angel. Sam and Cas avoided Marc, Grantaire and Enjolras, feeling guilty for not warning them about their fate or staying to help them. 

“We cannot change destiny, Sam,” Cas had said, knowing how bad Sam was feeling about their friends.

“We changed Henri’s,” Sam argued.

“No, Jean and Isobel’s love did that.” Cas replied, and Sam had to agree.

 

Dean

Dean had barely slept, had hardly eaten, and had almost worn a groove in the kitchen floor. He hadn’t left the Bunker in days, afraid that Sam and Cas might return while he was out. So, when they appeared, looking happy and smiling broadly at him, he wanted to punch one - or both - of them. He had been beside himself with worry, and here they were looking just fine and fucking dandy.

“Dean,” Sam grabbed him, hauling him into a bear hug. 

“Sammy, hey, lemme look at you,” Dean pushed Sam away slightly to cast his eyes over his little brother, looking for injuries, as he had so many times before.

“I’m fine, we’re fine,” Sam informed him, “but you look like shit.”

“You fucking disappeared.” Dean grumbled. “Excuse me for giving a crap.”

“Dean, I told you I would find him,” Cas reminded Dean. “I know you have been worried, but I would never let anything happen to him.” 

“Thanks, Cas. C’mere.” Dean opened his arms to Cas, who smiled happily as he let Dean hug him. Sam wrapped his long arms around them both.

“This calls for a celebration,” Sam announced.

Before long, they were sitting around the table in the War Room, with pizza and beers, as Sam and Cas filled Dean in on all that had happened. Dean listened in amazement, and asked a few questions about Jean and Henri. He was shocked to see from the small portrait Jean had carried how much the brothers looked like him and Sam.

“You had hair longer than mine.” Sam grinned. “Y’know I’m gonna have to call you Rapunzel now,” 

“Hey, he wasn’t actually me, Samantha,” Dean retorted, “but he sounded like a real kickass dude, despite his freakin’ girly hair.”

Sam laughed, really laughed, like he hadn’t in a long time. Dean’s affronted scowl just made him laugh more, his dimples deepening. Cas watched him with an affectionate smile. Dean was pleased that Cas and Sam seemed to have got closer during their HG Wells adventure. And he was grateful to see Sam so happy and almost carefree.

“I knew you’d be pissed,” Sam said, once he’d stopped laughing, “I was glad Jean had the portraits so I could show you.”

“Huh,” Dean grunted, adding, “Jean seemed like a good guy. I was worried he’d try to make you stay there. I guess not all spirits turn bad.”

“It was his love for his brother that kept him focused and sane. I think we can relate.”

“I guess so, Samantha.” Dean nodded, taking a bite of his meat-feast pizza.

“Love is a strong force for good,” Cas remarked, gazing at Sam like a lovesick puppy. Dean frowned at Cas, then at Sam, who was blushing a little. The penny dropped and Dean swallowed his pizza too quickly, making himself choke.

Sam patted his back and Cas got him a glass of water. Their concern was touching, even when Sam called him a pig for eating too fast. He’d expect nothing less. 

Dean decided to keep quiet, to give himself time to process the fact that his brother and his best friend were in love. He excused himself and went to his room. He lay on his bed, listening to Metallica through his headphones. It was weird, because up until they cured him from being a demon, Sam and Cas had hardly been close. Dean and Cas shared a profound bond, they would always be joined, always be close, always love each other, but not in the way that Cas and Sam did. And Dean wasn’t gay, but he knew Sam was bisexual and had experimented at Stanford. 

Dean was pleased for them – they both deserved some happiness and love – but he also felt a stab of jealousy. Now that they were together, where did this leave him? He shook his head. He knew he was being petty and unreasonable. They would work it out; Dean was open-minded and loved them both - they could make it work.

When he emerged from his room a few hours later to grab more beers, Sam and Cas were sitting at the kitchen table, in deep conversation that halted when Dean entered the room. 

“Hey, don’t stop on my account,” Dean greeted them.

“Dean, we need to talk…” Cas began.

Dean held up his hand. “No need. I’m cool with it. But Sam might have to buy a bigger bed. And dude, get memory foam this time, it’s incredible…”

Sam was on his feet and hugging Dean instantly, and Cas was smiling broadly at them.

“Thanks Dean, we were so worried you’d be…I dunno, pissed, angry, worried.”

“You’re happier than you’ve been in years, Sammy; why would I wanna fuck that up for you? And I can’t deny I was surprised, but now I get it -- you two geeks belong together.”

 

Sam

Dean was right—this new king-size bed with a memory foam mattress was the best thing he had ever slept on. It had been a month since Paris, and despite all the usual world-in-peril crap going on, once he and Cas were in bed together, he could forget it all and just be Sam. 

Sam thought of Jean often, and was working on tracing their ancestry. He knew the Campbell line traced back to the Mayflower, but now he also knew the Winchester line traced back to France. Cas helped him, and they pored over old letters found in ancient trunks in the bunker. Dean would roll his eyes and call them Mr. and Mr. Geek. Sam felt a little sad that Dean was alone, but he knew Dean was happy because he and Cas were so happy. 

Cas snuggled closer to him. “Are you okay, Sam?”

“Perfect, thanks. I was just thinking of Jean.” Sam sighed. “It still sucks that he died on the barricade to save his brother from the same fate. I wish we could’ve saved them both.”

“I am sorry for him too, but that was not possible.” Cas propped himself up to look down at Sam’s face. “We owe him a debt of gratitude.” 

“I know, without him we might never have had the courage to get together.”

“And that would have been a tragedy,” Cas traced Sam’s lips with his fingertips. ”I love you so much, Sam.”

“I love you, too, Cas,” Sam pulled Cas’s head down to kiss him. 

“Thank you, Jean Chevrolet,” Sam whispered, as Cas moved lower to kiss his neck, his collarbone, and his shoulders.

“Mmm, hmmm,” Cas agreed. 

The End


End file.
